


Something is Rotten

by Doceo_Percepto, Sp00py



Series: NSFW Little Nightmares II [9]
Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game)
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/F, Interrupted Sex, Masturbation, Mind Control, Mono is a pure bean, Rape, Six is a monster, Spitroast, Tentacle Sex, Trauma, Vomit, pseudo-futa, via hugging, with company
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29279376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sp00py/pseuds/Sp00py
Summary: Hamlet lives high above the world, in a little cage dangling over the junkyard. When the chain breaks and she falls into Six's and Mono's lives, her entire world falls apart, too.
Relationships: Six/Hamlet
Series: NSFW Little Nightmares II [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2074623
Comments: 18
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

Hamlet’s legs swung outside of her cage as she contemplated the overcast, moody sky, sending her cage undulating gently over the vast, flickering forest of broken electronics far below. It looked like rain, which she always liked, because the rain would make the exposed wires and circuitry pop and snap dramatically like a lightshow just for her. She held Teddy up through the bars so it could see farther.

“Do you see Auntie, Teddy?” Hamlet asked, then shook Teddy in the negative. She pulled him back in and blew a raspberry. Auntie hadn’t been back in ages.

“Do you think she forgot us?” She said more quietly, worrying at the edge of Teddy’s eye socket with her teeth. Sometimes Auntie would threaten to leave her out there, but she hadn’t this time. Maybe she _had_ forgotten her.

Movement in the junkyard caught Hamlet’s eye, and she smushed her face to the bars of her cage. It wasn’t Auntie, obviously, too tiny and flitting, but it was a something. Two somethings.

They paused and looked up at her, one of them pointing. Hamlet waved. One waved back.

Hamlet held Teddy out to wave, also, but he slipped from her fingers in her excitement.

“No!” She fumbled for Teddy, but the smooth curve of bone offered no purchase, and Teddy spun out into the air, down, down, down, toward the ground.

“Teddy!” Hamlet shrieked, cage swinging wildly with her movements. The pulley holding her cage’s chain creaked. The wood it was bolted to cracked. Suddenly, Hamlet realized just how high up she was. It had never bothered her before, because this was just life, but the junkyard and the sky and the tower were mingling like a nauseating, swirling hurricane.

The beam holding her cage snapped, and Hamlet was plunging down after Teddy. The chain caught, yanking the cage back, and knocking Hamlet into the bars. Then a link gave, and she continued down. The cage hit a pile of electronics and tumbled down in a scree of broken glass and dented metal. She blacked out.

Hamlet came to with two children staring down at her through the cage bars. It had landed with the door facing up, towards the dark sky. “Teddy?” she asked, then shoved herself upright. Everything spun, and she pressed her hand to her head before remembering her panic. “Teddy! I dropped Teddy!”

The kid with a bag on his head (which, weird, but Hamlet had more important things to worry about right now) held his hands up peaceably. “Who’s Teddy? We can help you find him.”

“Teddy’s my cagemate. He’s a skull.” Hamlet held up her hands to roughly sketch out the size of Teddy.

“Teddy’s… a skull,” the boy said slowly.

“He wasn’t always a skull,” Hamlet said, like that was the most obvious thing in the world, because it was. “But he is now. I dropped him.”

The kid climbed up the cage and started yanking on the door, but though many things had dented or broke in the fall, the padlock on the door stayed fast. He raised his head and contemplated the trash around them.

“I’ll go see if there’s a bolt cutter or something. Six?” The girl in the yellow raincoat perked up from where she’d been more interested in staring off into the distance than helping out. “Can you keep watch?”

Six nodded resolutely. Then the kid was retreating into the piles.

“Will you look for Teddy?” Hamlet called after him. If he responded, she didn’t hear. She just hoped Teddy was okay. Well, he couldn’t get any worse than dead, which he already was, but they’d been friends for so long. It was natural to worry.

When a metal pole poked her in the side, Hamlet yelped, and whipped her attention to Six. She’d been so worried about Teddy, she’d completely ignored the girl.

“Hello.”

Six met her gaze with her own dark eyes, but said nothing. She poked Hamlet again, in the side. It hurt. Then Six poked at her own side, making no indication of pain. Oh. She was trying to say something. 

Hamlet placed her palm to her side, and realized that, through the thin shirt, her skin was hot. She lifted her shirt, exposing her belly and ribs, to squint down at the tender, bright red swelling in the distinct shape of a cage bar lashed across her side. “Oh. I must’ve gotten banged up in the fall.”

Gingerly, she began to do a check for any other injuries she’d neglected in her panic. Head, ow. Left arm, also ow. Right side, of course. And one of her ankles throbbed, hard and round as a ball. There was a general sort of ache all around, but Hamlet was so often achy from the biting winds and uncomfortable bars that made up all the sides of her that she hadn’t thought anything was amiss at first. Blood dappled her hands from her brand new injuries, and she scrubbed them on her shirt.

Then she realized something that probably should have occurred to her much sooner. “Hey! I’m on the ground! Wow, it’s so much warmer down here. So if you’re Six, who’s paper bag boy?”

Six cocked her head as Hamlet rambled, but said nothing. She didn’t mind, though. She’d gotten good at filling the silence between her and Teddy once Teddy had died, and could talk to anything from the carrion birds that lived around here to, well, a skull.

The bars rang out as Six rapped them with her pole, and the sound stabbed unexpectedly hard into Hamlet’s ears. She cringed away, hands flying up to protect her ears. “What the heck?!”

Six held her finger up to her face, shushing Hamlet. Hamlet sighed through her nose, but didn’t say anything more.

With only silence to fill the time before that other kid came back (or died, she supposed. Maybe she’d keep his skull, if she couldn’t find Teddy. Name him Teddy II), Hamlet quickly grew bored of her toppled cage. Talking was her main hobby, and now there was only cold, wet muck oozing between the bars below and a heavy sky about to burst above. Bored. Bored, bored, bored.

Six hit the cage again, and Hamlet stopped flicking her nail repeatedly against the bars. She stuck her tongue out at Six, who just rolled her eyes and turned around to scan the darkness for the kid. When it was obvious that he wasn’t anywhere nearby, she turned again to Hamlet.

“Are you bored, too?” Hamlet asked hopefully. Maybe if Six was bored enough, she would stop rapping the bars when Hamlet wanted to speak. Six nodded.

“That’s okay. When things get really dull, I have Teddy, and we chat about just about a-“

_Rap rap._

Rubbing her ears, Hamlet said indignantly, “What are we supposed to do, then?”

Six looked Hamlet up and down, as if considering for the first time that she might be useful for beating boredom. It was a little insulting. Teddy never looked at her like that. Well, he didn’t look at much anything at all these days, but still.

“Do you have an idea?” There, Hamlet was willing to reign in her impatience and go along with it if Six had a better plan. The bars between them made most games difficult, but maybe Six was more inventive.

Six hummed noncommittally. Her hand curled in the hem of her coat, right beneath the buttons. The way she pressed her fist tight to her skin was uncomfortable in ways Hamlet wasn’t sure how to articulate. No - she did know. It reminded her of when she’d wake up in the middle of the night, thighs squeezed together, with a tingling heat crawling in her insides. It wasn’t a good feeling. At least not to Hamlet.

Six didn’t break eye contact, but began rubbing against her fist. Her knees bent.

“Stop that.” Hamlet looked away. Six didn’t stop. Was this what she did when she was bored?? Was she demonstrating her idea for defeating boredom? There were way better options. Pretty much anything was better.

Red with flush and irritation, Hamlet yelled, “I said quit it! I don’t like what you’re doing.”

Six hissed.

“I’m not going to stop talking if it means you’re going to keep doing that!“

In a second flat Six had the metal pole in her hands again, and she was beating it against the bars like her life depended upon it.

Hamlet ended up hunched with her palms clapped to her ears, screaming, “fine fine _fine_!” Until Six stopped.

Surly, Hamlet peered up through the bars. She was about to say something nasty (something that Six deserved after all that). Only a petrified squeak came out of her throat.

Six hands were wound around the bars like claws, but they weren’t the only thing gripping Hamlet’s cage. A dozen black dripping arms, sprouted from Six’s back, were pawing at the metal. They easily spanned the length of the cage. Between them, Six’s eyes burned.

Another squeak in the place of words. Hamlet involuntarily scooted away until her back hit cold metal. Six wasn’t normal. She wasn’t like Hamlet, or like Teddy. Hamlet wished badly she had known that earlier. She wouldn't have been so bold. She wouldn't have done anything to annoy Six.

Six’s rage, quick to appear, was equally quick to melt away. The shadowy arms didn’t vanish, but Six’s ire soothed into an eerie smile. That was a planning smile. An ‘I have a new idea’ smile. She looked at Hamlet like she wanted to devour her; the shadows had shifted into tendrils that caressed the bars. What she had planned, Hamlet didn’t want to find out.

Hamlet bolstered her courage. “Isn’t your friend coming back soon?”

Six jerked her head up, and scanned the horizon. Hamlet crossed her fingers. The paper bag kid at least seemed interested in her survival. Maybe he’d call Six off.

Six’s smile was back. No paper bag kid, then. Dread sunk into her stomach. What was the other girl going to do?

One shadow slipped between the bars; Hamlet kicked at it angrily. Shoo, shoo. Any time she nailed it, she felt a spike of cold and it disappeared into smoke, only to reform. _Shoo_!

Not to be deterred, it wound around her ankle like a chilly manacle.

“Stop!” Hamlet’s voice leapt an octave. “You’re freaking me out, Six!”

Saying that was supposed to jolt Six back to her senses. Instead, it inspired one of the only noises Hamlet had heard from Six so far: a blithe giggle.

“It’s not funny-“

Another shadow seized her other leg, phasing right through her kick to do so and sending iciness up her bloodstream. This stuff wasn’t toxic or anything was it? Hamlet couldn’t guess: she’d never seen anyone with this particular brand of power before. Anyway, she was more concerned about the flood of shadow limbs that now dove hungrily through the bars. They gripped her ankles, thighs, wrists, arms. Before she knew it, she was yanked hard towards Six. An already bruised spine bumped over hard bars, and her swollen ankle was crushed under the disturbingly strong grip of the shadows.

Hamlet couldn't help crying out. Hot tears pricked in her eyes. Ow-

Her knee struck the bars - “Ow!” - until Six’s powers wrenched her legs through the side of the cage. The position she ended in was an awkward one: laying on her back with her legs spread wide apart and slotted through the bars. She felt like little more than a puppet with her privates on display, especially given that she had only a skirt and a shirt on. Underwear was hard to come by in a cage, but Hamlet now more than ever (that is to say, she’d never worried about it before) wished she had some.

Her arms ached from yanking at the tendrils. Her spine throbbed from arching away, making no progress against Six’s powers. She just wanted to hide herself, for reasons she didn’t quite know, except for fear of something lurking on the horizon while she was trapped in a tiny, inescapable cage. Hamlet hadn’t had time to truly be afraid during the fall, and nothing prepared her for this sudden shift from child to monster.

“What are you doing-“ Hamlet moaned, tears leaking from the pain and terror. Her airways were beginning to close in panic. She was used to being confined: she’d spent more time in a cage than out. But nothing had ever held her fixed in one place like this. Not with those… whatever they were. Tentacles, shadows - what _was_ Six?

 _Relax_! That’s what Teddy would tell her. It wasn’t too different from the cage, right? Ignoring that she was still in the cage, and that Teddy wasn’t here to help. She’d been pretending she was him long enough, it should be easy to do it now. With enough focus, Hamlet steadied herself. Right. Just breathe. Breathe, and think. Not about how vulnerable she was. Not about what might be done to her. Think rationally. Calmly. Another steadying breath.

Given the position, Six was… probably hoping to touch Hamlet the same way she’d touched herself? _Ew_. Hamlet couldn’t pretend to understand why, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, what could Hamlet do to esc-

Her train of thought completely derailed at a single glance towards Six. There was something obsidian black and sinuous, curling up from beneath the hem of Six’s raincoat.

_What - what even was that?_

Hamlet’s stomach turned. _That_ wasn’t what she had between her legs. She didn’t think any kid had that between their legs. Nauseous, Hamlet began to writhe once more, desperate to escape Six’s clutches. “What are you doing?” she sobbed. Why wouldn’t Six answer her? Why wasn’t she explaining anything? Wait - “What about your friend?” Hamlet wheezed. He was her only lifeline at this point; she had to hope that he’d put a stop to this. That he’d know it was wrong. But he _was_ her friend… “Isn’t he coming soon?” she tried, forcing away the thought of there being nothing to save her.

Reminding Six was another mistake. After a precursory double check around them (Six was worried - so her friend really _would_ help Hamlet, wouldn’t he!), Six returned to her previous task with especial urgency.

The shadows nearly popped Hamlet's hips out of their sockets with the force applied in levering her lower half off the ground. This position was worse. Her skirt draped over her stomach, leaving nothing up to the imagination. Her spine was arched backwards, and blood had started to rush to her head.

Tears trailed up into Hamlet’s hairline and her thighs quivered as she fought pointlessly against the position. She wanted to puke, stomach roiling at the cold air teasing her skin, the tendrils clutching bruisingly tight. Everything was wildly beyond her control and even comprehension, fast, strange, to the point that Hamlet didn’t even know how to begin processing. She wished she was hanging in the tower, still, with just Teddy and her and not -- not this -- not--

Hamlet let out a strangled shriek. Suddenly, her position made sense. Six had raised her so they matched height, hip to hip. And that _thing_ was now shoved deep inside Hamlet. It was cold as ice but slick and undulating, not unlike a tongue. Disgust and bile crawled up her throat.

She threw up, and was absurdly thankful that Auntie hadn’t fed her today, because it burned up in her nostrils and throat, making her jerk and gag as she inhaled it back in. She coughed it out and snorted by reflex, barely distracted from what Six was doing. Six wouldn’t let her forget for long, though, as she experimented with the thing inside Hamlet, moving her hips, dragging Hamlet agonizingly deeper onto it. Everything that brought Six satisfaction was something that tormented Hamlet.

“St--sto--” Hamlet’s sobs weakened as she gasped for air, choked, coughed with each thrust of Six’s hips. Her attempt to speak died before it ever had the chance to live. It hurt so much. Hamlet was going to die. That was it.

Six’s movements got rougher and more erratic. Agony radiated up Hamlet’s spine and down her legs, spiking with every spasm from Six. Six’s breath came fast and ragged, possessed of some creepy rising excitement. Hamlet just wanted it to end. She didn’t want to feel anything again. She struggled just to breathe, just to exist.

As if on cue, the thing inside her abruptly slurped out, and all the shadows evaporated instantly. Hamlet fell in a crumpled pile, groaning at the bang of bones against metal.

Was… was it over? The pain lingered, but Six wasn’t inside of Hamlet anymore. Although, that didn’t mean she was safe… Weakly, Hamlet raised her head, steeling herself for some new terror. There was none. Six had frozen in place, eyes fixed upon something in the distance. All sign of her powers were gone. Only remnants remained of her fervor: a flush in her cheeks, her soft panting, her thighs squeezing together briefly.

Hamlet didn’t dare get up and follow her sight. Whatever Six saw, it galvanized her. A small fist caught Hamlet’s shirt front, and Six dragged her forward to wipe angrily at her snotty, teary face. Then there was a sharp _patpatpat_ on the top of Hamlet’s head, and she had no clue what was going on.

“Oh, sorry,” the boy said. He was back. Hamlet turned her red-rimmed eyes to him. Bolt cutters dangled from his hand. “Um…. did I interrupt something?”

Six shook her head, stepping away from Hamlet. At the scowl directed toward Hamlet, she took Six’s lead and shook her head faintly.

Six mimed the action of crying, and then pointed at Hamlet, like it was that simple. Like Hamlet was merely upset over something trivial, and hadn't just been attacked, fearing for her life.

The boy made a noise of understanding and came forward with the bolt cutters. Hamlet’s heart ratcheted up, and she scrambled to the farthest part of the cage. His face remained hidden behind the bag, concealing any thoughts or emotions. Hamlet wanted to trust him. She hurt between her legs, and ached in her muscles. She was trapped, and needed help. But why did it have to be Six’s friend?

His presence might have stopped Six from continuing her onslaught, but Hamlet had learned a new wariness for strangers. The boy was traveling with Six, after all. Did he know what she was? Or worse - what if he was like her? 

He clipped the padlock with the help of Six, and then pulled the door open. Freedom. A chance outside the cage. Hamlet hadn’t had that in… longer than she could really remember. In her rare dreams, she’d stepped out and had the whole world at her feet. Now, she was trembling beneath the gaze of two people she didn’t trust at all, one of them that had made her feel like some kind of chew toy, more helpless than she'd ever been - and that was saying a lot. Maybe she wanted to stay in the cage after all. Only, she wasn’t safe there, either. Still, she couldn't bring herself to move.

“It’s okay,” the boy said, holding out his hand. Hamlet flinched. Behind his back, Six’s eyes narrowed warningly. How had he not noticed her flushed cheeks, or the way she worried at the hem of her jacket with irritated need? He was the only thin line keeping Six from finishing what she started. 

“I’m sorry,” the boy continued, and seemed truly apologetic. “I couldn’t find Teddy. But maybe we can look together, once we’ve gotten some food and water for you.”

“That’s - that’s okay.” The mention of Teddy was a spike of worry through her heart. The fear for her own life trumped any fear about the remains of the dead, though. She took his hand, and waited for something to happen. For claws to come out, or extra limbs to grow, or something else equally terrible.

He helped tug her free from the cage.

Hamlet looked at their clasped hands, not sure if she could pull hers away now that she was out. The boy made the decision for her, releasing Hamlet.

She immediately wanted to run, but her legs were barely holding her upright. Everything hurt.

“Thanks,” she said numbly, because that was what you said to people who freed you, right? Thanks? Thanks for not ripping off my arm or hurting me or turning into a monster like your friend?

He lifted up his paper bag to flash a smile. “No problem. Kids have to stick together. I’m Mono.”

Hamlet, whose own smile used to be so quick and ready to rise only an hour ago, faltered in her smile. “I’m… I’m Haml--” Her throat tightened up, strangling the word. The darkness of the junkyard was closing in on her.

She sank slowly to a crouch, trying to breathe normally. Trying not to let the pain show and attract Six’s attention. There was a chilly, slimy wetness between her legs, and the feeling of something slipping down her leg made more tears spring to her eyes.

Mono’s smile morphed into concern, and he crouched down beside her. “Hey, hey, are you okay? Did you hurt something in the fall?”

Hamlet could do nothing but nod, feeling Six's presence only a foot away, looming above her. Staring.

“Where?”

She couldn’t point out where she hurt the worst, so Hamlet gestured vaguely to her head. “I just… I just need to rest, I think,” she mumbled, leaning away from Mono’s fingers when he tried to examine her head.

“It has been a long day,” Mono allowed. “Come on, we’ve got a hideout not far from here. You’ll be safe there.”

Hamlet wanted to turn him down. She wanted to scream ‘absolutely not’. She wanted to run away and hide, cry, and never see Six again.

She said, “Okay,” and wiped at the new tears. Hamlet was afraid to stay, but even more afraid to run. To be found by Six, without Mono as whatever flimsy barrier he offered.

Mono helped her stand, and she swayed against him, knees pressed awkwardly together. Together, they walked to what felt like her doom, Six trailing behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

Mono led Hamlet through a maze of electronics that sparked occasionally and made her jump. What was once comforting now scared her. And it’d taken only one, horrific incident. She wished she had Teddy to hold and chew, to bring back some normalcy. The skin of her spine itched with the weight of Six’s eyes, the feel of her tendrils licking icy phantom trails.

They had quickly figured out that Hamlet needed some support, as much as she wanted to crawl away from any touch of hands or sudden movements, and she kept at least a handspan of space between herself and Mono, bending awkwardly away from contact. She’d been injured beyond what Six had done, and worse, though Six’s attack hurt the most. Every shift of her hips made muscles she’d never thought about throb, and going was agonizingly slow, dragging it out even as she tried as much as possible to not agitate her body.

Eventually, they arrived at what Hamlet guessed qualified as a hideout. She sniffled and tried to ignore Six as she took in the towers of TV sets listing dangerously against each other, like tired giants ready to collapse. They created an alcove that a tarp had been slung up inside, but which had still flooded with water. Mud had already splashed up her legs, so she wasn’t bothered by that.

Six, though. Hamlet glanced at her from the corner of her eye. This was her lair, like those spiders that built tunnels to hide in.

Mono was either unaware of their tension, or he had a disturbing sense of humor, because he casually called back to them while rifling through some cans, “We don’t really have much, but there’s some soup… uh, a can of corn. Yeah, you probably want the soup…” at this point, he seemed to be talking to himself. He was so relaxed. Did he really not know the truth about Six? It had taken Six barely thirty minutes to reveal that to Hamlet. 

_Although I did provoke her._ That was an ugly, slimy thought. It wasn’t her fault that Six was a monster just waiting for some chance -

“Hey.”

Hamlet jumped. Oh. Mono was holding out a can. Hamlet took it with a mumbled thanks. 

The soup was cold, and the rim jagged where he'd forced it open, but it gave Hamlet something to focus on other than Six. Mono had taken the can of corn. Six wasn’t eating anything.

Hamlet watched her from the corner of her eye, until Six glanced over, their eyes connected, and Hamlet dropped her gaze to the miscellaneous lumps in her soup.

“How are you feeling, Hamel?” Mono asked, startling her from her deep contemplation of fat globules and old potatoes.

“Hamlet,” she said reflexively.

“Oh, Hamlet, sorry.”

“I’m fine,” she muttered, hiding behind her can. “Thanks.”

They ate in silence. Six sat at the entrance to their hideout, attention wandering between the darkness outside and the deeper, colder darkness inside. Hamlet pretended the occasional burst of salt in her mouth was from the soup not the rare tear that slipped free. Mono politely ignored that she was crying.

When they finished their food, Mono took the cans and chucked them far outside the hideout. He settled back in so close to Six, so comfortably, that Hamlet was afraid for him. Or of him. She wished she knew what he knew, because it confused her and made her head pound trying to figure out what was stupidity or maliciousness.

Hamlet picked at the skin around her fingernails. She missed Teddy. She would have missed the cage, too, except for the most recent memories that threatened again and again to creep in, no matter how hard she pushed them away. Teddy was safe. He wasn’t friends with any monsters. 

“Oh, I’m so stupid!” Mono exclaimed, loud enough that Hamlet jumped and gazed at him with round eyes. 

“Your ankle,” he explained, gestured. 

Oh. Hamlet had forgotten that it was all red and swollen. She didn’t care, either, not after everything else. 

“We’ve got first aid supplies somewhere around here, let me-”

“N-no, it’s okay-” Hamlet hurriedly said, picking harder at her skin anxiously. She didn’t want anyone’s hands on her right now, and anyway, what if Mono noticed _other_ injuries when he got closer? “Please, don’t-” Hamlet begged as Mono moved to get up. 

He paused, and took in the sight of her tear-streaked cheeks. “Are you sure…?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s okay. I just need rest.”

“Okay…”

Mono settled down again. Hamlet caught him glancing at Six, in a _‘what do you make of this?’_ sort of way. Six just shrugged. 

Hamlet sat there, unsure what to do with herself. She was not only an outsider to their dynamic, but terrified of being near Six. Things had been so much easier in the cage. The only time Hamlet had felt so helpless was when Teddy was dying.

Teddy had gotten sick slowly, but it ate at him faster and faster. Feverish bright eyes, clammy skin, shaking even as he burned up. Being in a small cage with him, it was impossible to escape the stink of sickness, the confusion as he cried out for people she didn’t know, and all Hamlet could do was hold him and assure him and push his sweaty, slick hair from his face. Auntie hadn’t wanted to deal with Teddy -- sick children weren’t allowed inside, and Hamlet was just as good as infected, herself, being in such close proximity.

Food had been sent out in a basket, but it was never enough. Hamlet had soaked bread in water and forced it down his throat, giving all her food to Teddy, because he needed it, and still he grew thinner and thinner, skin sallow, breath shaky. Hamlet did _everything_ she could, and still he died.

Horribly, that had been a relief. Though Hamlet was stuck with a rotting corpse that attracted birds and flies, Teddy wasn’t suffering, and Hamlet wasn’t running herself ragged trying to help. Guilt had eaten at her while Teddy was eaten away by animals, falling away bit by bit through the bars of the cage floor, until nothing was left but emptiness, silence, and Teddy’s skull with wisps of hair still sticking to it. Hamlet had loved that skull, and now he was gone.

She pulled her knees to her chest, wincing and tucking her skirt between her legs in a way she hoped was subtle. Hamlet wanted to think of anything else, but her mind was a jumble of Teddy’s slow decline, the fall down the tower’s side, and the rapid, shattering agony of Six’s assault on repeat. She felt so gross and tangled up inside.

Mono kept moving a little toward Hamlet, then reconsidering, as though her misery was making _him_ suffer. Maybe it was, but he was friends with Six. Maybe he _should_ be uncomfortable.

Rest. That was what Hamlet said she needed, and she was bone-weary. Hopefully sleep would quiet her screaming mind.

Gingerly, she went slowly from sitting to lying down on her side. She was in a puddle, but Hamlet refused to move more than she needed. And to get to drier ground meant getting closer to Six, now, who had migrated further in to sit near Mono. No thank you. Hamlet could handle a bit of mud.  
  


Hamlet wasn’t sleeping. She tried, and tried, but even as Mono and Six laid down, even as soft snores began to emit from their shadowy figures, Hamlet couldn’t. The silence of night and lack of activity left her at the mercy of her mind and body. She kept her legs squished tightly together, but she still felt torn open and oozing. Had Six damaged something, and she was slowly bleeding to death?

With a furtive glance toward the others, Hamlet pulled her sodden skirt up her legs, shivering at the cold that felt like shadowy tentacles caressing her skin.

She lifted her head, hair weighed down with mud, and squinted at the pale skin. Mud, yes, but there were also dried trickles of something dark and black. Blood? Something else? Something gooey and chilly was up inside of her, Hamlet was sure of it. She rubbed her palms along her thighs, flaking off the dried lines as close as she dared to the crux of her legs, until her skin was red, but clean.

Hamlet took a few steadying breaths, glancing over at the others to double check they remained asleep, and braced herself for a more thorough examination. Her fingers trailed tentatively across swollen, irritated skin. She winced, then covered her mouth with her other hand. She’d never touched herself down there before, but already knew this was going to hurt.

Her face scrunched up as she pushed her fingers inside, hating the weird feeling of something inside her, even knowing it was herself. And oh boy, did it hurt. The new sting of a bit lip and coppery taste of blood couldn’t compete from that pain. Air hissed through Hamlet’s nose as she dragged her fingers along her insides, eventually touching something small, but cold where nothing cold should be.

Choking down whines and ignoring the new fount of tears, she pinched at the thing and pulled it out with a full-body shudder. A small, slimy plop into the puddle, and Hamlet felt immediately and bafflingly better. Not _good_ at all, but better.

She slumped, legs jelly, eyes on the tarp above her. Movement on her periphery made her heart jump, and she almost bit herself again when she found Six’s yellow-clad figure sitting up, her dark eyes honed in on Hamlet.

Frantically, far too late, Hamlet shoved her skirt from where it had bunched at her hips.

Six crawled toward Hamlet, mindful of Mono’s curled up figure. Words choked in Hamlet’s throat, a cry for help or attention or anything dying away as Six filled her vision.

Six leaned in. Hamlet cringed away as a small, warm tongue flicked out and lapped at her bitten lip. Hamlet squeezed her eyes tightly shut, as though that could stop the feel of cooling spit dragged like a slug over her mouth, the warm huff of air mingling with her own breath.

After several more licks, Six settled down next to Hamlet, hand hiking her skirt back up so she could slip her leg easily between Hamlet’s.

No shadows, no powers. Hamlet just let her do it. She swallowed a sob that wanted to escape.

Six’s arms wrapped around Hamlet, holding her close as she began to grind on her leg. Six’s breathing picked up, still muffled and conscious of Mono sleeping close by, but erratic as her movements. Like before, when she’d been shoving -- shoving into -- 

Hamlet forced herself to breathe, back arching away from the leg pressing at her groin and sending new, dull pain through her body, making her imagine something black and writhing inside of her. Six wasn’t -- she wasn’t inside Hamlet, was she?

Hamlet’s gaze flicked down. No, there was nothing there. No shadows, at least.

Six continued humping against Hamlet, huffing and clenching, unclenching around her. Excitement thrummed through Six. Even without knowing what, exactly, she was doing, Hamlet knew that. She was licking at Hamlet’s cheek, nipping her jaw and throat. Hamlet wanted to shrivel up and die. Instead, she just lay there and let it happen.

After seconds that felt like years, Six shuddered with a wet sigh against Hamlet’s neck. She disengaged her leg from Hamlet’s, then tucked her head up under the taller girl’s chin. Hamlet’s heart drummed in her ears as Six continued to not leave her alone. It took far too long for her to realize that not only was Six not going to leave, but she’d fallen asleep.

Hamlet’s leg itched. She wanted to move, but moving meant disturbing Six, and disturbing Six could mean anything at all (nothing good). She grit her teeth against the rising panic of entrapment that warred with her fear of Six waking up. No moving. Don’t think about the itch, or the fact that she can’t move. Think of something, _anything_ else. She latched onto any thought to distract her, anything to stifle the panic, no matter how nonsensical or unimportant. It was impossible to ignore, the tiny irritation growing larger and larger in her mind.

Hamlet startled from her stupor when Six shifted. Not quite sleeping, but exhausted into a strange, half-aware calm. Her leg didn't itch and her panic about movement was gone, or they had just become part of the background noise that was this nightmare she'd found herself in.

She blinked away the dryness in her eyes, only to find Mono standing at the entrance, framed by the weak grey light of a day without rain, something long in his hand Hamlet couldn’t quite make out in her sleepy state. He had the bag on his head, and the dark eye-holes were directed toward Hamlet and Six.

With a feline stretch, Six disentangled herself from Hamlet then stood up.

Hamlet sat up, but made no attempt to go further. Her ankle was still swollen and tender, but not as bad as before. That was good. Though it wouldn’t be without pain, she could run if she really needed, she thought.

Mono helped her entirely to her feet, and Hamlet was afraid (of everything) to reject his offer, so let herself be hefted to her feet. He handed her a pole (oh, was that the pole Six had used before? It looked like it) so she could hobble around by herself.

“Where are we going?” Hamlet asked, helpless to not go where they wanted, but it’d be nice to at least know.

“Six and I need to keep moving. You can… you can join us, if you want,” Mono said, sounding almost shy. “Six seems to like you.”

As though to verify, Six leaned into Hamlet, knocking her shoulder gently against her arm. Helmet wanted to say no. She needed to find Teddy. She wanted to go back to her tower. She just _didn’t want to be here._

But there was Six, and if Mono moved on, Six could circle back. Or Mono would just end his charade right now, and let Six hurt her unimpeded. Let her -- 

Hamlet took a deep breath to hide her terror. “Sure,” she croaked out.

And that was how Hamlet joined a mission she knew nothing about, with a monster and a kid wearing a paper bag on his head.


	3. Chapter 3

Hamlet didn’t care where Mono and Six were going. She didn’t care  _ why _ , either. She wanted nothing to do with the trip or either of them - well, maybe Mono, now that she didn’t have Teddy. But not Six. She wanted nothing to do with Six.

Only the two of them seemed inseparable. 

Hamlet trailed behind them, too miserable to join in their conversation (and Mono was polite enough not to lasso her into something she clearly didn’t want). As she did, she witnessed the easy familiarity between Mono and Six; something that she couldn't at all comprehend, knowing what she did about Six. 

Mono and Six behaved like they had known each other forever. Around Mono, Six was animated and engaged, even if mute, and you would have to be blind not to notice just how closely Mono watched her body language to pick up on what Six might be saying. He adored her. Hamlet didn’t know what all the fuss was about. More and more bitterly she watched their interactions. 

Mono had no shortage of words: he mused over their destination, someplace called the Flesh Gardens, which, ew. He contemplated the sighting of a bird, which he suspected was a raven. Hamlet bit her tongue before she corrected him; it was actually a grackle. Hamlet hadn’t known the difference before, but Teddy did, and he taught her. He’d loved birds. And now he was dead, and Hamlet was alone, despite having the company of Mono, who was trying his best to fill the quiet.

He also had a few jokes - some pretty corny, in her opinion, and once tousled with Six briefly. Close to midday, he even broke into a soft song, while Six provided a chaotic attempt at percussion by snapping her fingers, banging her hands on her own limbs, and making mouth noises that more or less qualified as music.

All of it was surreal. How could Six do childish stuff like this, and then… then…

Hamlet hunched over. She had been trying not to think about it. About the soreness deep inside her, jolting slightly with every step. About a dozen snake-like arms holding her down and open. 

“Hey.” Someone touched Hamlet’s shoulder and she jumped nearly a foot in the air. 

Oh. It was just Mono. “Are you okay?”

She nodded stiffly. Six was hovering behind Mono, like some awful wraith just waiting for Hamlet to reveal what had really happened. No chance. If this morning had proven anything to Hamlet, it was that for some way, some how, Six really valued Mono, and that meant two things: 

If Hamlet got in the way of their friendship at all, bad things could happen. 

Or, Mono might be like Six. He might find it funny, her getting attached to him and thinking he was innocent. Then, bad things could happen. 

“I’m fine.” Hamlet added, hoping the words would add more conviction. 

“Let’s break for lunch. We’ve been walking for hours.” 

Hamlet exhaled heavily. Good. He didn’t ask any more questions.

Lunch was quiet. Maybe because Six sat between Mono and Hamlet, which had a way of making Hamlet feel very unsafe. Yeah, it was most likely that, because Mono was making a solid attempt to converse.

“I didn’t realize there were birds so far out here,” he said, leaning forward to peer around Six. “The last place I saw ravens was the woods, before I met Six.” At just the mention of her name, Six sat up straighter and seemed to preen, as if to say ‘yes, I  _ was _ here first.’

The silence that followed implied he wanted Hamlet to contribute something. “That wasn’t a raven,” she said, at a loss for anything else to add. “It was a grackle.”

Mono took her correction in stride. “I don’t know much about birds,” he admitted. “Did you see a lot of them, up there?” He gestured vaguely to some higher location.

“They ate Teddy,” she muttered with a shrug, then when she saw Mono’s horrified look, clarified. “Oh, no, it’s okay! He was already dead by then. He really liked birds. I bet he would have been happy knowing they got to eat. He taught me all about them…” Hamlet’s voice trailed off with a waver, thinking of Teddy, back when he’d been alive.

“I’m sorry,” Mono said, softly. 

Hamlet didn’t know what to say. She was sorry, too, about Teddy. She wanted more than anything to have him back. He wasn’t coming back, though, and she currently felt much sorrier for herself. 

Six let out a loud, obvious yawn. 

Hamlet tensed, mind assaulted by images of Six crawling over and tangling their limbs. They weren’t going to bed yet, were they?

“Wow, Six, tired already?” Mono asked, jumping at the chance for a new conversation. “If you want, you can take a nap. Me and Hamlet’ll stand guard.”

Six wrinkled up her nose at that suggestion, but then pointed at Hamlet. Mono looked between the two, trying to puzzle out what she was saying. “You want to take a nap with Hamlet?”

“I’m not sleepy,” Hamlet said quickly. Maybe too quickly, but Mono just shrugged.

“You guys don’t need to be together  _ all _ the time, Six,” Mono explained, then turned to Hamlet. “Sorry, Six hasn’t had many friends. She gets really attached, though.”

Six smirked from behind Mono.

“Oh,” Hamlet squeaked intelligently.

Six had committed to this course, though, so curled up a few feet away and closed her eyes. Hamlet watched her warily, expecting her to creep over and touch her again. But Six seemed content to sleep (or pretend to sleep…?).

Mono spooned out some of the soup he’d been cooking over a small fuel can into a tin for Hamlet, then helped himself to the pot.

“So what was Teddy like?” he asked quietly, sitting closer to Hamlet so they could whisper.

Hamlet turned the tin can around in her hands, keeping the hot soup from touching her palms for too long at a time. “Teddy,” she began slowly, thinking. “Teddy liked birds. But I already told you that. Uh. He was really nice, and smart, and funny,” Hamlet continued, struggling to put into words why Teddy was so great. There were just  _ so many _ reasons. But once she started, it got easier, and the words poured out. “We used to steal food from Auntie all the time, and once we found a bird caught by her. I think she was gonna add it to a pie. I wanted to leave it, because once it was a pie, we could steal some, you know?” Mono nodded. He seemed pretty well fed, so he probably did know. Sometimes you had to do what you had to do to eat. Hamlet sipped some of her soup. “But Teddy didn’t like seeing that bird with a string on its leg trying to fly everywhere, so he cut it free, and it flew right out of the tower. I thought that would be the end of it, but then the craziest thing happened!” She flung her arm wide, almost hitting the pot, before reeling it in and lowering her voice with a frantic glance at Six.

“The craziest thing. The bird started bringing stuff to Teddy! I didn’t know they did that, did you?” Mono shook his head, a smile on his face. “Well, I guess birds can tell who people are, and they tell other birds, because soon we had a whole flock of them, just bringing us all kinds of things!”

Hamlet forced herself to be quiet again, and inched closer to Mono to whisper even quieter. “When Auntie finally caught us in one of her rat traps, she put us out on that ledge I fell from, you know? And those birds still came! They brought us food and string and pages from books. That’s how Teddy taught me to read, ‘cause we weren’t doing much else hanging up there. But we didn’t have a lot to practice on, so I’m not too good at it. Can you read?”

It took Mono a moment to realize he’d been asked a question. “Yeah,” he said. “My… I can read. Do you… want me to teach you?”

Hamlet perked up. That was such a Teddy thing to offer. She took some small comfort in the fact that Mono cared about those sorts of things. It made it feel more likely he was human, too, and not a monster. That he just had no idea what Six really was.

Mono looked around, then set his ladle in the pot and scrambled off to the junk scattered across the area. He returned with a book swollen and warped with water, and opened it gently. Hamlet inched closer after glancing at Six, who just very pointedly rolled over so her back was to them.

If she wanted to pretend to sleep, Hamlet was fine with letting her do that.

Mono pointed at the first word, and Hamlet knew that one right away. “The!” she said enthusiastically, and Mono lit up, moving his finger to the next word. “Wo-man. Ran. Thor -- Ther--”

“Through,” he supplied.

“Through the p-our-ing rain…”

Together, they worked through the first page of the book, then Hamlet read it again, by herself (mostly). The third time, she read it quietly, lingering over the words, putting them together into thoughts, sentences, scenes.

Eventually, Six got bored of pretending to sleep while they had fun and the soup got cold, so she sat up with a big stretch and a yawn as fake as her first. Hamlet immediately shut up and sat away from Mono, even though she knew Six had been listening already.

“Sleep well?” Mono asked. At Six’s shrug, he held up the book. “I’m teaching Hamlet how to read! Do you want to learn, too?”

Six scratched her face pensively, staring right at Hamlet, who felt pinned, all the happiness she’d felt reading with Mono draining away like the blood from her face. Then Six smirked at her and nodded.

“Next time we can all read together,” Mono decided, as if that was something both of them would actually like. Well, Six would. Hamlet was grateful that Mono deemed the lesson done for the day, though, so she didn’t have to endure leaning over a book elbow-to-elbow with Six right now. She kept jogging to keep up with Mono’s longer stride, since Six liked to casually stroll behind.

Hamlet had never seen the city beyond the junkyard, except in the hazy distance from Auntie’s tower. She latched onto Mono’s arm and pointed at a lurching mass dragging through the street, pushing a cart with wheels that shrieked like the damned, yanking bodies into it. “What is  _ that _ ?” she whispered.

“The Garbage Collectors,” Mono muttered. “They mostly leave us alone.”

Hamlet craned her neck to watch. “What are they collecting?”

“Viewers. After… After we turned off the signal, they just sort of…. Dropped.”

Hamlet had no clue what Mono was referring to. She was starting to think she’d missed a lot in her tower. The world was so much bigger than she’d ever thought. Hamlet rubbed her arm. It kind of felt like a second chance, or being born again. Learning to read again, getting to wander and see new things with Mono. If not for... 

Hamlet glanced back. Six waved. If not for her.

  
  
  
  
They settled in for the night in a home with its door mostly intact, but unlocked. Old cans of food provided dinner, and they gathered musty blankets into some semblance of a camp on the kitchen floor. Hamlet tried to establish her part of the camp as near as possible to Mono, but Six slithered between them, and began clawing at the air in Hamlet’s direction. Hamlet flinched, but nothing happened. Six just kept clawing.

At Hamlet’s confused expression, Mono elaborated, “She wants to play the spider game.”

“The what?””

“The spider - here, I’ll show you.” When he went to turn Hamlet around so her back was facing him, Six shoved her out of the way, already shimmying out of her raincoat. Her shirt soon followed, as Mono gave an affectionate but exasperated roll of his eyes.

Hamlet couldn’t help but stare, covering her own chest awkwardly. Six was the slightest bit less flat than her, a little more curved, and had no problem being mostly naked. Hamlet had a lot of problems with her being mostly naked, and her gaze couldn’t help but slip to the dingy, stained shorts that probably used to be white, wondering what was behind them.

Mono began speaking, gesturing for Hamlet to come to Six’s back and watch. Her bones weren’t as prominent as most kids’, hidden behind an expanse of healthy skin.

“Spiders crawling up your back, spiders crawling down,” he said, trailing his fingers up and down her back, on either side of her spine. He walked Hamlet through the entire process, Six occasionally cackling as he tickled her ribs.

“Oh,” she said faintly.

“Do you want to do it to Six, now?” Mono asked, leaning away to make room. Hamlet held up her hands to say no, but Six had already whipped around and pointed at her, making the clawing gesture again. “Nevermind,” Mono said with a laugh. “It looks like Six wants to do it to you. Is that fine?”

Hamlet wanted to shake her head. She wanted to be very clear how not fine that was, and leave, and never return, but Six was looking at her, and that alone was enough for her to nod in defeat.

She turned around, skin crawling as she felt Six slide closer. When Six started to yank her shirt up, Hamlet was quick to do it herself, stopping with it bunched up around her shoulders. She tried not to flinch as Six’s fingers ghosted experimentally over her ribs and the bumps of her spine. Think of something else. Anything else.

“Six never does it to me,” Mono muttered, sounding oddly sour, until Six smacked him. “Oh, right.” Mono cleared his throat.

“Spiders crawling up your back.”

Six’s fingers danced up Hamlet’s spine, evoking an involuntary shiver.

“Spiders crawling down.”

Hamlet bit down a whine as Six’s fingers trailed dangerously close to her waistband.

“X marks the spot. X marks the spot.”

Six’s hard nails dragged Xs hard enough to raise welts.  _ Think of birds. And cages. And women running through the rain. _

“Dot, dash, dot, dash, question mark. Are you okay, Hamlet?”

Six’s finger jammed aggressive punctuation. Hamlet nodded frantically.

“Dagger in the back-- blood rushes down --”

Six dragged all ten of her fingers down Hamlet’s back, leaving streaks of fire in her wake. Hamlet shrieked and fell forward, scrambling to pull her shirt back down protectively on her back.

“Six!” Mono admonished, crawling forward to help Hamlet up. “You’re not supposed to do it that hard!”

Six blew a raspberry and crossed her arms.

“Are you okay?” his hand drifted to her shirt.

Hamlet sat upright, fingers curled into the hem to hold it down no matter who tried to get underneath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just… it’s not that bad. I just got startled,” she finished lamely, trying to pretend her back wasn’t on fire.

Mono looked between the two girls. “That’s probably enough games for tonight,” he decided. “We should get to sleep.”

Hamlet chewed her lip as the others settled in, trying frantically to figure out how to ask to sleep with Mono. He’d wake up if Six tried anything, right?

By the time she worked up the nerve, Mono was tucked into his blanket. It would be awkward to ask, now, without being suspicious, and the last thing Hamlet wanted to do was upset Six.

“Goodnight,” she said very quietly, curling up in her own pile, as far away from Six, who had yet to settle in. Six just stared at her, head tilted, fingers dragging lightly across the linoleum of the floor, as though reliving scratching them down Hamlet’s back.

Mono fell asleep quickly.

Hamlet did not. She stayed in a nervous tight ball, throwing occasional glances at Six. Six wasn’t sleeping. She wasn’t even trying to. Her attention silently vacillated between Mono and Hamlet. Like she was waiting. 

When she finally moved, Hamlet jerked upright, completely alert, a cry on her tongue. She’d just say she had a nightmare or -- or something -- anything -- wake up Mono --

Six froze. The two of them sat very very still, both watching each other. Even amidst her terror, Hamlet let herself feel the smallest bit of satisfaction. There. Six knew she’d wake Mono up. Hamlet wouldn’t have to endure whatever Six had planned. She might actually make it through the night without - without - 

Hamlet shuddered, fighting off the memories crowding in the dark kitchen, the shadows that could be claws. The cold that burned against the backs of her thighs. Six wasn’t doing anything. She just had to survive the night. She just had to.

Six darted forward, as though sensing that lapse, that weakness, and wrapped her arms around Hamlet. To attack -- no -- Hamlet’s weapon, her cry for Mono, died in her throat as Six hugged her. Scream. She needed to... 

An uncanny, fuzzy sort of warmth was spreading throughout her body. It was a struggle, suddenly, to focus clearly. She was supposed to… to yell - to wake up Mono-

Hamlet jerked in Six’s grip, heart pounding - how could she have forgotten, even for a second? She opened her mouth to do just that, but again, not a sound emerged. Stronger now, the warmth flowed heavily over her, like a thick water-soaked blanket. She couldn’t think through it. She didn’t need to. Everything was okay. She relaxed in Six’s arms. In fact, she was more relaxed than she’d been in… longer than she could remember.

Hugging was nice. It was safe, and warm.

Six eased the crushing grip she had on Hamlet, a smile on her face that Hamlet found herself returning. When Six stood up, Hamlet did too, and followed like a duckling after Six’s bright yellow coat.

They went out the back door, and Six closed it quietly behind them. Hamlet stood there, shivering in the night air, missing the warmth of Six’s hug already. As Six stalked the yard, Hamlet looked around in curiosity. At some point, a child must have lived here, because there was a tree house, and a tire swing, and broken, rotting toys scattered in the weed-choked grass.

Maybe Six wanted to play with her out here? Hamlet smiled. That would be nice; she hadn’t had a chance to play -

Teddy. Since Teddy, before Auntie, before he died -- she fell, and then... Why was it like swimming in a swamp to remember what happened? Her breath stuttered in a strange fear of yellow and black, like a hornet. Buzzing, stinging,  _ stabbing into her-- _

Six whistled; Hamlet looked up. Oh. They were going to go somewhere else. That was okay, too. Whatever had been bothering her vanished immediately, and she felt better just seeing that cheery bright yellow. Hamlet followed Six under the gleaming light of the moon. Everything was dream-like. Even her own legs, step by step trailing Six, didn’t feel quite real. Hamlet let out a faint giggle, distant to her own ears.

Six pressed her finger to her lips. 

Oh, quiet. Right. Hamlet tiptoed along, further and further from her own safety.


	4. Chapter 4

Overgrown grass tickled Hamlet’s ankles. Dying wrought iron lamp posts dimly lit the city park. Benches were cleaved in two, and ivy-covered statues wore grotesque, distorted faces.

_Why am I here…?_

Six smiled, and Hamlet remembered: it was because Six wanted her here. She was doing the right thing, being here. Six tugged her down until she was on her knees, and then guided her onto all fours. That’s funny, she thought vaguely. What kind of game was this?

_Why am I here?!_ This time that voice cried louder, frightened. Placeless images swelled in her skull, of swirling darkness, a devious smile, red lines dragged along pale flesh. Hamlet needed to get out. She needed to run. Something was wrong. 

But why? She was doing what she was supposed to be doing. Everything should be okay… if she could just shake off the creeping sensation that threatened to ruin her good mood.

Six’s pale hands settled on the outside of Hamlet’s. Four hands, splayed in the grass, now. So it was something else, cold and thick, that looped around her midsection and forced her spine into an arch. 

Cold. Cold. Six’s thighs lined up with hers, but Hamlet’s breath was coming fast and sharp now. Cold. She hung on to that like a fish snared by a hook. It dragged her out of the murky sewage, little by little, while she clawed and fought for mental clarity. There was something she needed to remember. Something she needed to do… escape, run, fight…? But Six wanted her here, like this…

Something was wrong. Cold _._ More things inched across her like slugs; they were _everywhere,_ slipping up under shirt, winding around her throat, slithering across her chest. Dizzily, she wondered if they hadn’t replaced her flesh, and were now burrowing deeper - 

Burrowing - cold -

Clarity wrenched in like she’d been plunged into icy water. Hamlet gasped sharply, and seized in their squeezing grip. 

Her gaze swung wildly down, to her and Six’s hands. 

No. Not again. Not again -

How did she get here? How did she let Six start this? Where was Mono - where was their refuge?

She’d followed -- why would she follow --

Hamlet lurched forward to escape. She could figure out what happened later. The thing around her waist tightened in a crushing grip, and two more yanked her legs wider, dropping her lower. A cry escaped as her ankle bent wrong being shoved over the ground, shooting fresh pain up her leg. Six’s thighs pressed against hers, hot in the cold of the night. Hamlet’s skirt was bunched up around her waist, leaving her exposed. Six was -- she was doing _that_ again.

Coldness dragged at her groin and slipped between her cheeks, sending a revolted shudder through Hamlet. _Scream_ , her mind told her. Make noise. Maybe Mono will come. Someone will come.

She screamed, only for it to be immediately choked by something slithering inside her mouth, exactly at the same time as Six jerked her hips forward. Hamlet spasmed, clawing at the ground. That thing was shoving deeper, forcing its way down her throat, into her body. It felt like it was trying to reach the thing Six had crammed into the other end, that the two wanted to unite inside her no matter what they had to pierce to manage it. 

Hamlet screamed, even though it was pointlessly muffled, even though she couldn’t breathe.

Her legs spasmed and kicked out, accomplishing nothing as Six’s hips began to snap against her, and the thing in her throat pumped in time, sliding in and out, slick with dripping ropes of spit and icy nameless fluid. Hamlet’s pathetic noises gave way to heaving and gagging as her body warred with itself to either swallow down the thing or vomit it out. 

The slurping of its movement against her flesh was nauseating. Worse, her oxygen-deprived brain screeched that she needed to breathe, needed to inhale, but it was in the way, bulging inside her throat muscles without any room for needed air. The thing was suffocating her. It smothered scream after scream. 

Hamlet banged her fist on the ground. Spots flared in her vision and formed long trails as she thrashed her head side to side. 

Finally the thing in her throat wrenched out. Hamlet sucked in an involuntary breath wet with foul-tasting fluid. The next moment she was slumped face down, coughing violently and spitting out black-stained saliva. A weary terror had sunk all the way to her bones, but at no point did Six stop rutting against Hamlet. Instead, the other girl’s fingers dug bloody furrows into Hamlet’s hips, and the cadence of her breath suggested nothing but excitement or yearning.

Amidst all the splitting pain, streaming tears, and gasping for breath, Hamlet didn’t notice her buttcheeks being spread until something licked between them, a sensation repulsive in a new, horrible way. It had her jumping instinctually like a live child speared on a meathook. She clenched tightly in vain. It didn’t matter what she did or didn’t do to stop Six. 

That awful cold squeezed its way in, first as a thin little wisp, and then thickening and ballooning once it was inside, until Hamlet was sure it was pressing hard on all the spots that shouldn’t ever be touched, until it felt like it was crawling up into her belly. 

Six continued slamming into her, the gross thing between her legs lapping deep inside of Hamlet. The two tendrils compressed the seemingly thin flesh between them, rubbing her raw and tearing whimpers from her mouth. They were so brutal she was terrified they’d rip through her like paper and make one giant hole down there.

Hamlet’s stomach turned. Bile rose up her throat. She couldn’t stop it anymore than she could stop anything else happening to her. She felt like a puppet, but all the strings pulling her were on the inside.

The tendril that had been in her mouth returned, as though sensing she’d had enough to breathe. Hamlet reared back as much as she could, accidentally impaling herself harder and releasing a whine as Six giggled and her stomach lurched. The thing pursued, pressing against her lips, freezing cold and wet. Hamlet swallowed, teeth clenched tight, before her body betrayed her.

She bucked forward, her dinner spewing out onto the ground, half-digested and warm. The tendril slithered in as she puked, body convulsing around all the horrific intrusions working their way all through her. It pushed in further as her stomach tried still to empty itself, esophagus clenching and unclenching wildly. 

Hamlet thought she’d known fear before. That had been only pain, gross and deep, but just pain. Now, it was vile acid and suffocation and things worming unnaturally deep inside. She wished for unconsciousness to take her, the only escape she could look forward to as her body was shoved back and forth between three opposing forces.

Suddenly, she felt the gentle, soft brush of hair against her ear. It barely registered under the waves of pain, but Hamlet could make out shaky, huffy breathing, hot and moist inside her ear. If not that so many other disgusting things were happening, and Hamlet’s body had no more energy to fight, she would have shuddered. As things were, though, she felt on the verge of passing out.

The movements at her groin became sharp and arrhythmic, matched by everything else undulating agonizingly tight inside of Hamlet. Six’s hands clawed wildly at her hips and sides, like she couldn’t pull Hamlet close enough. 

Then, with a few final stutters of breath, Six shuddered and twitched against Hamlet. The burning pain inside her ratcheted up under a sudden onslaught of freezing cold. For a short moment, the two of them were motionless, stuck together. Then those things inside of Hamlet faded into nothingness, leaving behind only the ache and ice.

Six collapsed on top of Hamlet, who collapsed onto the ground. Even though there wasn’t anything to thrust with anymore, Six ground lazily against Hamlet’s butt, making pleased little sighs. 

Hamlet didn’t move. She didn’t know how to make sense of what had just happened. Her brain and body both pulsed with a surreal numbness. 

All she wanted was to curl up and stop existing. Just for a little bit. Only Six’s weight prevented her from even turning off of her stomach, and Hamlet wasn’t going to do anything to disturb her or draw her attention.

They stayed there for what felt like hours, Hamlet in a pile of her own puke, leaking out of everywhere, Six a warm weight on top of her.

After an eternity, Six’s fingers twitched. She yawned, stretched, and pushed herself up.

Hamlet didn’t want to get up at all, but once Six had stood and saw she hadn’t stirred, Six dragged her to her feet.

Hamlet shivered, pressing her legs together awkwardly. She felt like she had an entire tray of ice cubes up inside of her. 

Six’s dark eyes raked over her, making her feel even more disgusting than she already did. Her shirt was stained, stuff kept dripping out of her. Her face was a mess of tears and spit. She was pretty sure there was vomit in her hair. Her mouth didn’t taste right, and everything inside her throbbed. 

When Six began to unbutton her raincoat, Hamlet’s head shot up and she took a step back, confusion and terror on her face.

Six paused, arching a brow in amusement. She pointed. A cracked concrete pond, rectangular with whimsical fish statues in the middle, and a few dead lily pads floating in the stagnant water. Six shed her raincoat, shirt, and shorts. Without an ounce of shame, she stepped into the water. 

Gazing back, she crooked her finger. _Well, aren’t you coming?_

Hamlet shivered in place. No. She couldn’t bring herself to move. Better to stand here forever.

Six’s eyes narrowed incrementally.

Okay. She wasn’t going to say no. Maybe if she listened, nothing else bad would happen. At the first step, something cold and wet slipped out of her. She gagged at the sensation. Thighs squeezed together, she followed Six into the pool, where the other girl began tugging off her clothing. 

Hamlet stared at the ripples in the water while this happened, her teeth chattering for reasons that had nothing to do with the cold. Don’t think. Don’t think. 

She couldn’t not think. About the black shapes pawing at her. About being torn open and - 

_Don’t think don’t think_

Six splashed water on her shoulders and Hamlet flinched violently. Just water. That was all. Six laughed at her reaction. More water was cupped in Six’s hands and poured over Hamlet’s shoulders. Rinsing off all the fluids, all the evidence. Even though Hamlet was expecting it, she winced at every rub and every pat. Any one of them could turn dangerous in an instant. 

Six draped herself all over Hamlet. She wouldn't stop touching her, petting her, nuzzling her with her cheek. Hamlet stared fixedly in some middle distance, seeing nothing. Trying to be nothing. She didn’t know why Six was so affectionate all the sudden. She didn’t really care why, either, she just wanted it to stop, because the fingers that gently smoothed over her skin now were the same fingers that only moments ago had been clawing at Hamlet and holding her down. 

Hamlet couldn’t help the occasional whimper, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Then it did. Six seized locks of her hair, and plunged her face under the water. Can’t breathe - cold - 

Hamlet’s head flung upward, wet hair sticking to her cheek. Water swirled as she unsteadily backed up, “N-no-“ 

Six leapt at her. Bony limbs banged together. Hamlet’s fight was weak and half-hearted, and soon Six had forced her head beneath the water again. She scrubbed at Hamlet’s hair, yanking out tangles, raking out the clots of vomit.

When Hamlet was released, she backed away sniffling, but her hair was much cleaner. 

Six turned her attention to washing the clothes. 

Although Six had scrubbed every inch of her, Hamlet didn’t feel clean. Not at all. Her insides burned with pain and cold. Some part of Six was still in her, and she didn’t like it, she wanted it gone. But she didn’t dare do that while Six was here.

Her outside felt just as bad. Her skin crawling with invisible bugs and filth. Hamlet scratched at her arms, like there might be microscopic dirt that Six missed. No matter how hard she scratched, she couldn’t separate it from herself. Not even when she tore open her pale skin.

Something touched her side; Hamlet jumped and a short yelp escaped her. Six was there, dark eyes gleaming. She held out a bundle of poisonous yellow.

She… wanted Hamlet to take her raincoat? Hamlet’s eyes wandered. Oh. Her own clothes were now soaked. “That’s yours,” Hamlet whispered. Her voice was raspy. Each syllable hurt her aching throat. 

Six shoved it to her chest.

Reluctantly, Hamlet took the coat. They stepped out of the water. Six shook like a dog, and laughed, like it was just a fun whimsical night. She wiggled each limb for extra water removal, and then pulled her grayish underclothes on. This done, she gestured impatiently at Hamlet and the raincoat in her arms.

Hamlet swallowed. With shaking hands, she opened the coat and pulled it onto one arm, then the other. The fabric sat weirdly on her. It was too small, first of all. The sleeves didn’t reach her wrists, and the hem didn’t cover nearly as much as she wished it would. Her discomfort, though, had nothing to do with the fit, and everything to do with her associations of the coat.

Hamlet let Six take her hand and lead her back to the house. She just _let_ her direct her, did nothing to stop her or even try running. She was too scared to try. She let her do whatever she wanted. Horribly, Hamlet thought she might always. By the time they were walking toward the weeds of the backyard again, Hamlet was hyperventilating, seeing this happening nightly, until Six messed up and killed her. She couldn't do that. She couldn't endure that again. She had to tell Mono, or run away, or - 

Suddenly, Six stopped walking. Hamlet stared at her, tense. Six tilted her head, listening. Then, having decided something, her arms came up around Hamlet, who froze, waiting for more pain, more violation. Six hugged her, instead. Again, she’d hugged her before, too. Was this Six trying to apologize? Or lull her into some false sense of security?

Hamlet’s attempts to puzzle it out dissolved away like sugar scattered in the sea. The harder she tried to focus, the less she could. Simultaneously, her anxieties felt like they were coming through a thick wall now, muted, silenced. 

It was… nice. Especially compared to what else Six could do to her. Hamlet felt herself relaxing into the touch, resting her cheek on Six’s damp head. She could stay like this for a while. She didn’t mind.

Six stepped back, smiled. Their fingers linked, and they continued through the gate, into the backyard. Mono was already standing there.

“Six!” he cried out, reaching for Hamlet, then stopped. Even with the bag on his head, Hamlet could see his confusion. She shifted awkwardly in Six’s raincoat, tugging it down a little with her free hand.

His gaze dropped to their interlaced fingers, then rose again to take in the dampness of their hair and shyness of Hamlet’s gaze.

“Oh.” Mono cleared his throat. “Um. I’m glad you guys are okay,” he said finally, sounding just as shy. “I woke up and -- well, I guess it doesn’t matter, really.”

“We’re fine,” Hamlet offered. She hadn’t wanted to say that. The words slipped out, but she wasn’t fine. Unless she was? Why was she so confused? It seemed like it should be an easy question to answer. “We went to the park,” she said, again without entirely planning on it. 

Mono tugged his sleeves. “I guess you guys had fun, huh? Just… tell me next time, okay? I was really worried.”

Six nodded as Hamlet verbally agreed, adding an apology in for good measure. She felt bad for making Mono worry. He seemed to care very easily about people, especially Six, and there wasn’t any need to bother him. 

“It’s okay. Let’s just get inside before you get sick.” He ushered the two of them back into the house, then set them both down as he went to find towels.

Six leaned against Hamlet and closed her eyes. Soon, she was snoring lightly. Hamlet stared blankly ahead, waiting for Mono to come back and hopefully ward off the creeping unease slithering back into her heart.


	5. Chapter 5

Something was wrong. No, a lot was wrong. Sickening images and sensations violently painted across her mind like a raw wound or throbbing lights. They flared agonizingly bright and fresh every second, and felt horribly like something that would never heal. Her body was no comfort, either, torn up and used and ugly. Hamlet wished she could crawl out of it and exist somewhere else, alone.

Alone wasn’t something she was getting tonight, though. Six had draped herself half over Hamlet’s lap, breaths soft and slow. Hamlet wanted to strangle her. Six shouldn't be allowed to look innocent. She shouldn't have done what she did to Hamlet. Or Hamlet shouldn't have been stupid enough to let it happen. Now that -  _ that _ was the scary truth she circled back to, again and again. Hamlet had  _ let _ it happen. 

Worse than that - she’d enabled it. She had  _ known _ Six wasn’t safe to be around. So why had she followed her? Everything could have been avoided if she just yelled out to wake Mono, like she planned to. So why hadn’t she? And then when they returned, Hamlet wanted to tell Mono what had happened, but her courage failed before the words could come out. Six’s actions stood out stark and painful, but the before and after were a foggy dream where Hamlet couldn't understand her own choices.

Maybe it was for the best. What could Mono possibly do, against… against…

Hamlet fought down the rising panic attack. No danger right now. No danger. Six was asleep (for now). Those  _ things _ were nowhere in sight. 

No, Hamlet reasoned to herself. She had made the right decision, not telling Mono. She didn’t think he knew the truth about Six. It was the one thing Six seemed to actually care about: she wanted to hide what she was doing from Mono. And if Hamlet was the cause for the truth coming out…

Hamlet shuddered. 

She slept very little that night. Every twitch from Six yanked her back to the park, the memories, the pain. Close to dawn exhaustion won out. She was sure she had simply blinked, but one moment the room was dark, and the next, red rays of sun were filtering through the cracks in the walls, and Six was gone. 

_ Six was gone.  _

Hamlet shot into a sitting position, heart pounding, head swinging around. But nothing, nowhere - 

Mono sat across the room, bag abandoned by his side, adding food cans to a tiny hill of them. He looked up. “Everything okay?”

“Where’s Six?” She rasped, and winced. Her voice hadn’t recovered. Every word stung.

His brow relaxed. His smile was telling of something that Hamlet didn’t like at all. “It’s okay. She’s getting something to eat, she’ll be fine. You want anything?” Mono gestured at the cans.

Hamlet bit back on the question of why Six left when so much food was available here. She didn’t care, not really. All that mattered was that Six wasn’t here. “When did she go?” Hamlet dared to hope it had been recent.

Mono shrugged. “Maybe half an hour ago? But it’ll take her a while. Trust me, she’ll be okay.” Yeah, Hamlet had no worry about that, thanks. Better that Six come across something foul and get killed, but Hamlet wasn’t going to get her hopes up.

“You want some?” Mono repeated, jamming a knife into one of the cans and sawing it open. 

All of her innards ached, and there was still an awful cold in her, to the point where her lower abdomen was numb. The idea of eating, or shoving food past her burning throat… blugh. “No, thanks.” 

“Okay.” Mono looked worriedly at her. “Are you s-“

“I’m sure.”

Silence fell, but for the scrape of him digging pears out from the can. 

Hamlet folded her hands over her abdomen. She wanted to get the cold stuff out of her. She wanted to get rid of Six’s coat, too, because it made her skin crawl like little bugs were all over her. She stood up, nursing sore limbs.

Mono looked up sharply. “I said Six would be back-“

“I’m just looking around. Inside.” She had no interest whatsoever in finding Six. If Six was outside, then Hamlet was going to stay inside. Easy as that. 

“Oh. Okay. Sorry.”

Stiffly, Hamlet left the room. A tall, crooked hallway, with half a dozen doors. Six doors. Hamlet scowled, frustrated at herself. She didn’t want to think of her. She didn’t want to think about what happened. No matter what she wanted, her brain kept following the same mental path. 

The first door yielded a closet. Hamlet glared at the moth bitten towels like they’d personally offended her. The second door, a bedroom, with an enormous four poster and rearing drawers. A family of birds had made a nest at the top.

The third - a grimy bathroom. Hamlet gratefully slid the groaning door shut behind her, and reached to take off Six’s raincoat. As soon as it peeled off her shoulders, a bolt of terror shot through her, a gasp wrenching from her throat because hands and teeth and tendrils were swarming upon her newly bared flesh, seizing her and - 

She was alone. Hamlet’s breath echoed hollowly in the empty room. There was nothing there. No teeth, no hands, no nothing.

Hamlet let the coat fall completely, and wrapped her arms around herself. Okay. So she was imagining things now. Shivering off the ghosts of those illusions, she grabbed a small stool and dragged it to the tub. Her feet slapped up the steps, and she pointedly ignored the way her thighs throbbed from the motion. She wanted things to stop hurting. She supposed she wanted a lot of things she wasn’t going to get. 

Hamlet perched at the edge of the tub. Greenish slime had vomited up from the drain and now it was caked all on the bottom of the porcelain. Standing here would be fine. 

Her hand drifted between her legs. She took a steadying breath. Right. She’d done this once before. It was going to be worse this time, she knew. But it had to be done, and she could do it. Just suck it up and get it over with. The faster the better. She bit into her hand to muffle the scream, and stabbed her fingers in. No point in being gentle, or going slow - that would just draw it out. 

Spots flared in the edges of her vision as her fingers dug into herself, scooping and clawing out the cold liquid within. It slid out wetly in a sensation that disgusted her to her core, and splatted to the side of the tub. Hamlet kept at it, frantic, trembling from the pain and horrific delusion that it wasn’t actually  _ her _ doing this to herself, but Six. 

Six-

Hot tears pricked at her eyes. Don’t think about her. Don’t. 

Hamlet sobbed anyway, teeth buried in her forearm, fingers scouring out every last bit of that disgusting stuff, until there was a small puddle of black liquid under her, beginning to ooze off the side of the tub. She wiped her fingers on the tub, but the color wouldn’t come off, not completely. Half manic, Hamlet tried harder and harder, and jammed her nail in the effort. Fine, fine. 

She stumbled her way down to the bathroom floor, groin practically on fire with pain now that the numbness was receding, and snatched Six’s coat to scrub her fingers clean on the softer inside.

This done, she threw the coat down, and furiously ground her foot on it, vision blurry with tears and rage. She hated hated  _ hated _ this coat, and Six and -

Hamlet stormed out of the bathroom. Out in the hall, she took a moment to breathe, wipe her eyes, and collect herself. Clothes. She wanted something to wear that  _ wasn’t _ Six’s. 

She pushed open the next door. To her relief, it was a child’s room. There were knives stabbed into the teddy bear’s eyes, and something suspiciously stained red splattered over the bookcase. The covers had been half pulled to the floor, and Hamlet tensed upon seeing a suspicious lump under those covers. But it didn’t move, and she crept past to the half-opened drawers.

Piles of children’s clothes, half folded tidily, half haphazard. Hamlet fished out a folded pair of underwear, and yanked it on. It was such a thin, flimsy piece of fabric. Her teeth gritted, and some deranged force seized her. Her hand shot back into the drawer. Another pair of underwear was pulled up over the first. Then another, another. 

Soon Hamlet was standing there, looking incredibly dumb with five pairs of underwear on. She knew it was dumb. But she felt safer like this, less vulnerable.

Hamlet bit her lip, and returned to her hunt within the drawer. Ah - she pulled out a soft pink dress, and tugged it over her head. No, still not enough. She dragged out another dress, this time lavender blue, and put it on, too, before she forced herself out of the drawers. 

She didn’t feel… good, exactly. She felt horrible, actually. But not as horrible as before, now that she was bundled in so many warm layers. Too warm, maybe. Better too warm than too cold, though. 

Hamlet slunk back into the bathroom to retrieve Six’s coat. She’d much rather cram the thing into the toilet and flush it. But she wasn’t foolish enough to find out what would happen if Six came back to discover her coat ruined. Resigned, Hamlet brushed it off, and smoothed out any wrinkles in the fabric.  _ There, I fixed your stupid coat. _

With the coat folded over her arm, Hamlet returned to the kitchen area. 

Mono had finished his pears and was reading, but looked upon her arrival. “Oh hey-“ he started cheerfully. “Got new clothes?”

Hamlet nodded. Maybe she shouldn't have returned yet. She wasn’t ready to talk to anybody, and Mono might notice something was wrong. She just was afraid of Six returning and her not being there. Would that upset Six? It might. Hamlet fiddled with the hem of her dress.

“Not too hot?” Mono mused. 

Hamlet shook her head. 

“Six is really rubbing off on you.” 

_ What -  _ oh. The muteness. Hamlet forced a half-hearted smile, praying it didn’t look like a grimace. “I guess so.” 

The  _ thup  _ of his book closing, then footsteps. Mono sat beside her. “Hey, Hamlet? Can we talk?”

Instantly Hamlet’s heart rate ratcheted up again. What did he want to know? Did she slip up in some way? 

Mono touched the bite on her hand - the one Hamlet had inflicted on herself. She fought the urge to flinch. It wasn’t Mono she had to flinch from. “This is from Six, isn’t it?”

“Um - no-“

Mono winced. “It’s okay. She…” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m really glad she likes you - honestly, beforehand, she never looked twice at any other kids. But she doesn’t really know  _ how _ to like people, y’know?”

_ You don’t say.  _

“She bit me, too, when we first met.”

Hamlet’s eyes jerked to him sharply, analyzing. Had Six done other things to him? No. His expression was too genuine. His eyes too soft. He thought he was providing actual useful information; he had no idea he was flying so far off the mark. Six may’ve bit him, but she’d stopped her weird gross attention there, it seemed. 

“What I mean is that she’s learning,” Mono elaborated. “And she can be rough, but she means well.”

Rough was one word for what she’d done. “Okay.” This conversation needed to be over, now. Hamlet didn’t like talking about it, or her. 

“It’s good to remember you can tell her no. She’s really good at listening. I had to sit down and talk to her about it, but once she knew to be gentler, she was really awesome. You might have to do something similar.”

At first, Hamlet wanted to laugh at the absurdity. Then her brow furrowed. Had she ever actually told Six no? Or explained anything? She didn’t want to go back to the things Six had done to her, but now she wasn’t so sure. She didn’t remember saying no. She remembered screaming - shouldn't that have been obvious enough? Or did Hamlet really have to spell it out? 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” A hand came out of nowhere, and Hamlet let out a small shriek, scrambling to her feet. Oh. It was just Mono. He paused, hand hovering awkwardly before he put back in his lap.

“You look feverish,” he added, quietly. 

“I’m fine,” Hamlet rattled off quickly. 

“You’re wearing two dresses-“

“I’m cold, okay! Why don’t you just leave me alone! I said I was fine!” She was left gasping, staring in horror at Mono’s dismayed expression. She hadn’t meant to snap at him. She didn’t know what she was doing anymore, she just - felt so overwhelmed, and confused. 

“Sorry,” Mono squeaked. 

Hamlet clutched at her two dresses, felt the layers of underwear between her legs. This was stupid and crazy. Everything was so out of control. She just wanted her cage and Teddy and -- and she turned around.

“Hamlet?” Mono asked, but she was already running through the twisted halls, until she found a window with a broken pane. She scrambled up the hall table in front of it, then toppled out to land in a miserable pile in a drainage ditch full of rotting leaves and trash.

She pulled her knees to her chest and dropped her head, trying to steady her breathing. She had no cage, no Teddy. She had Six. And Mono. Mono hadn’t deserved that. Tears slipped out along with shuddering breaths. What if he did leave her alone? What if all she had left was Six, with her gross hugs and her terrifying shadows?

She didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t mean to say those things. And now the clothes she’d layered up were soaking through with stagnant water and mud. She felt disgusting and pathetic.

Hamlet owed Mono an apology. She really needed a friend right about now. 

And now she felt ridiculous, too, having run off like that and ended up in a worse position. Resigned, Hamlet circled back around and entered from the front of the house. 

Mono had hidden his face behind his paper bag again, so when he looked up, his expression was unreadable. 

Hamlet rubbed her arm. She’d apologized to Teddy before, but that was about it. And never after something she couldn’t even explain.

“I-I’m sorry,” she said. That was the easy part, as much as it hurt to utter when all she wanted to do was scream what Six had done, what a monster his friend was. But she owed him  _ some  _ explanation. “I’m really confused right now,” Hamlet tried after several false starts. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. You… you didn’t do anything. I’m sorry.”

Mono hesitated long enough for Hamlet to be worried, but then he stood, and, “hey, hey - it’s okay. I mean-” he laughed humorlessly. “There’s been a lot of change for you lately, right? With - with Teddy, and the cage, and -”

“Yeah.”

“And I guess it’s new, uh, being with Six. It’s understandable to be confused.”

Her throat closed up at the mention of Six. “Yeah-” she squeaked again.

He reached forward, projecting every movement like he’d taken note of her earlier jumpiness. Hamlet froze, and Mono took that as consent to wrap her in a hug. She just had to not freak out and scare him off. No screaming to not touch her, no cowering from something so simple as a  _ hug _ . Mono wasn’t the danger.

“Apology accepted,” he said.


End file.
